Battle Against A True Hero
by Tooti Fruity
Summary: The Dragonborn was gifted with immeasurable power. It's too bad that he chose to use it to destroy lives.


**IMPORTANT INFORMATION**

 **Wow, this is SUPER old. Like, "I wrote this two years ago and never posted it" old. I was originally going to make this a series, a sort of crossover of the Stick of Truth universe with elements of the Undertale SAVE mechanic. The player character, Dovahkiin, has the ability to save and load, and unfortunately has chosen to do the equivalent of a Genocide run, mowing down everyone. Stan got caught in the crossfire, and Kyle is avenging him, that's the gist of this fic.**

 **TW: Violence, swearing, torture, death, mentions of sexual content, mentions of rape and necrophilia**

 **SPSPSPSPSP**

The room was cold when Dovahkiin entered; too cold. He crossed the open threshold, tensing when he heard a voice and saw a figure obscured by shadows sitting on the throne.

"The Stick isn't here, Dovahkiin. I sent it away because I knew you were coming," He stiffened. _Damnit_. The figure continued. "You don't have to look so stiff, Dragonborn. We have much to discuss before I try to fight you," He only grew tenser at the use of his true name. So this was he, the King of Elves, the Ruler of Larnion. Kyle Brofolvski. He heard the other man snicker.

"So tense. One might almost think you were afraid, Dovahkiin. And you should be, of course. After all, I didn't earn the title Destroyer of Men for nothing, but really. All I ask is a quiet dinner before we duel." It was then Dovahkiin noticed the long banquet table in the center of the room. How had he not seen that before?

It was then Dovahkiin saw the shadows dissipate with a flick of the shadowy wrist of his opponent. He was genuinely surprised when he laid eyes on King Kyle. He was on the short side, with at least four inches of curly, untamed ginger hair, on top of which rested a golden crown fashioned to look like twigs woven together. His green eyes held a cold indifference, and his face communicated no emotion, with a slew of angry red freckles on his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. Dovahkiin had to admit, he did look incredibly regal, with his long, gold and red robes and his pale, milky skin that betrayed no exposure to hard labor in the sun. He stood, smirking proudly, and motioned to the table.

"Sit."

Dovahkiin didn't move.

Kyle betrayed a look of annoyance. "I said, _sit_ ," And with a flick of his wrist, Dovahkiin flew across the room, his feet dragging the floor, and slammed down onto the pulled out chair with a hard thud. He let out a grunt of pain as the King sat at the other end of the long banquet table, watching him.

Kyle flicked his wrist, and from a table in the corner, various foods and drink flew gracefully across the hall, landing carefully on the mahogany table. With another flick, he began the carve the robust looking turkey, levitating a few pieces to the plate in front of him, along with a variety of other snacks, and filling his crystal glass to the brim with dark, inebriating liquid. He did the same for himself. Dovahkiin eyed the food, particularly the red liquid, with mistrust. Kyle let out a snort when he noticed.

"Honestly, do you really think I'd _poison_ you, Dovahkiin? Good God, I would never use such cheap tricks. After all," He locked eyes with him. "I want a fair fight. Poisoning you wouldn't be right, and I'm nothing if not a just man," When Dovahkiin still didn't touch his food, Kyle "hmmphed" and rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his own meal. "See? If I had poisoned it, I would be dead now. There's nothing in the food! Just eat it, Christ, you're pickier than Sta-" He stopped, promptly shutting his mouth.

Dovahkiin smirked, knowing what he had almost said. Kyle growled lowly, starring down at his lap. "We don't speak of him anymore in my home. I cannot run my kingdom if I allow his passing to bring me grief, can I?" And when Kyle looked up again, his eyes betrayed a look of feral rage, his lips curling into an ugly snarl. "But you've been busy. I know what you did."

He leaned forward, eyes smoldering. "You. Killed. Him. I know you did." And at that, Dovahkiin let out a crazed laugh, pulling the hat he had held onto as a trophy and standing as he slammed it onto the table. Yes, let the King of Elves come undone before him. He slid it forward into view, where Kyle could see it. Kyle's expression darkened. "Holy shit. I wasn't sure if you'd admit it. Most people would deny it, out of fear of me. But you," He smirked once more. "You're different, aren't you?" He took a sip of his wine, clearly drinking more to buy himself more time to think of something to say. When he finally did put it down, Kyle stood, glaring at him.

"At first, I thought you were a Human. After all, you were an ally of the Grand Wizard, and of Princess Kenny, both of which are rulers of Zaron, land of Men. But," He paused, eying him with interest. "You're not really human, are you? You're not a _human being_. No human being could be that evil. No, Dovahkiin, you're something far more sinister than that. You prey on fear, on darkness. It nourishes you. It brings you joy. It completes you. So, I ask," He paused yet again, looking away. "Why him? He was so pure, so kind. He didn't deserve to suffer. He went looking for you in secret, never asking for recognition, only wishing to ease the suffering of our people by killing you. He was a better man than you and me combined, though," He chuckled humorlessly. "That's not saying much, is it?" Pushing away his plate, Kyle stood and began to pace.

"All those years, toiling away in secret, never telling him once how I really feel-" He took a deep breath. "I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone, Dovahkiin. I loved him. I loved him like the sorry fool I was. Even when were children, I adored him, admired him. He was so brave, so fearless, so willing to throw himself into battle to protect those he loved," He swallowed painfully, continuing. "But it could never be. He was born of peasants, and I of royalty. But I loved him still, loved him until every bone in my body ached for him. I wrote him sonnets, love letters, ones where I confessed the nature of my feelings, though he never read them. I spoke his name when I released myself in solitude, I clutched his hand as he lay wounded and on the brink of death. I held him when his mother died. I held him when his fiancé died. I told him I would always be there when he needed me. It's funny that I wasn't there when he needed me most, no? He died, bleeding out on a cold floor, probably wondering where _his_ Kyle was. Every part of me ached for him, and now that he's gone, I-I _still_ ache. Sometimes it doesn't even feel real. But," He paused in his heartfelt monologue, tears openly streaming from his eyes. "I suppose I have come to terms well enough. See, I plan to destroy you. I plan to make you beg for the release of death." He smirked, even though his tears betrayed his grief.

"But you can't die, can you, Dovahkiin? No, you've been granted the gift of immortality, of life everlasting. Every time you die, you simply return to your previous "save" point, like it's all just one big game. Well, I've found a way to remedy that, Dovahkiin. See, a fortnight ago, I sent one of my scouts to tail you and track your behavior. He observed that, somehow, you always came back. So I decided to take action. I cried tears of anguish, see, I burned myself until I was reduced to tears," He pulled up his sleeve to reveal an angry looking patch of healing, burnt skin. "And I enchanted it. The whole process of enchanting the vial took a few days straight of searching for the right spells and ingredients, but eventually I found the recipe. Tungsten, black sage, a pinch of vinegar and a whole lot of suffering. A few drops of blood here, a few pinches of wormwood there, and then it was finished when I collapsed into a heap for three days, like I was in a coma. All for one, measly vial of tears." He looked up, a sadistic grin set on his features. "But they were no ordinary tears. The series of spells I incanted on them made them work for something far more important than they originally were intended for. See, I had a scout pay the lovely woman who was your waitress at the Giggling Donkey to spike your drink with this concoction. And it did its job," He stepped forward, fist clenched in his mighty fury. He pointed one accusing finger at Dovahkiin. "You can die now. Only by my hand, of course, as I was the only one who cried into the vial, but still, once I kill you? You die. For good. No coming back, no save points. Just a whole lot of black and whatever hell you've created for yourself with all the shit you've done, you sick fuck," Dovahkiin stared at him, a look of horror painted on his face. No, he couldn't mean-

"So come fight me now. Go on, try it. Most people haven't witnessed my true power, as I usually try not to use my magic in duels. Again, Dovahkiin, I'm a fair man. The only one to match my power was the Grand Wizard himself. But since you took away the only person left that I loved? Fuck my own bullshit set of codes and standards of morality. Fuck being fair," And suddenly, his voice raised into an angry yell. "YOU KILLED STAN!" His voice was lowered when he spoke again, moments later. "You took Stan away from me," At that his eyes began to glow green, and his voice distorted several octaves lower than normal. "And now you're going to _**pay**_!"

With lightning speed, Kyle raced forward, cupping a ball of energy in his hand and throwing it with a grunt of exertion at Dovahkiin. It hit him square in the chest as he tried to block it. What the hell?! Why didn't blocking it work?! Kyle laughed, his voice crazed.

"Blocking my attacks doesn't work, you idiot. You're not powerful enough to do that," And when Dovahkiin took his turn, shooting a Mongolian bow and arrow, Kyle allowed it to hit, if only to show how little damage it did. Pulling the arrow out with a slight wince, he licked his own blood off of it in a show of power, snapping it cleanly in two and throwing it down. "You fool! Did you really think your pathetic attempts at an attack would deter me?" At that, he raced forward, jumping to the wall, which he actually stuck to for a moment, probably more magic, and then launched himself from it with a sly grin. He came hurdling at a high speed, eventually making contact with his fist, knocking Dovahkiin over with ease. The punch, which had slowed him down enough to send him flying back about a foot, allowed him to land cleanly on his feet, crouched, with his hand to the ground. Rising with dignity, he stared down at Dovahkiin, who spat at his feet and stood, drawing a sword and attempting to stab him. Kyle dodged it with ease, and kneed him in the stomach. As Dovahkiin bent over in pain, he brought his fist up from under his chin and slammed it into the bottom of his face. His head snapped back with a crack as he fell over, groaning in pain. Kyle smirked.

"C'mon, get up. You can't be tired already, can you? I've only been attacking you for a few minutes!" Dovahkiin stumbled back to his feet, spitting out a tooth and grinning sardonically. Shaking his head, he attempted another blow, which Kyle barely blocked, earning him a little damage. Good, he was back in this!

But the next blow Kyle dealt was harsher and even more painful than the last, and it didn't take long before he was laying on the floor, Kyle above him and donning his staff. It glowed with the stress of a powerful attack as it charged up. He knew this was the end. He didn't want to die non verbally. And he wanted to hurt Kyle. So he stood, and he decided to kill two birds with one stone.

For the first time in the last few months, he spoke.

"I loved doing it, you know," Kyle froze.

"Doing what?" He laughed manically.

"You know. Killing him. I loved it when he bowed over, too weak to continue. I relished how he cried for you in his last moments, before I mounted him and strangled him to death. I loved the way it felt when I slid myself into his tight body. It was obvious he'd never even put a finger up there; he was so snug. You know, corpses don't get cold for a while. He was still warm and I fucking LOVED it," Kyle gaped at him in horror.

"You didn't…" He whispered, tears forming in his green eyes again. He laughed.

"Oh, I did. Several times. My only regret was killing him first. I do love it when they cry and beg for me to stop. I love the shame. I love how dirty they feel after. I find it delicious, really. Anyway, I stripped him naked, and I fucked him. I fucked him until his ass bleed, Kyle. And then I dug a really deep ditch, and I buried him, still filled with my semen, bruised and naked and ashamed, in an unmarked grave," Spitting at Kyle's shaking form, he continued. " _It was better than he deserved_ ," Kyle trembled with rage, before launching forward with an ugly scream. Oh God, he _really_ looked like a demon now.

Kyle was too angry to speak it seemed. All he did was continuingly lay into him with brute punches, not even bothering with his sophisticated magic, just enjoying the way his bones cracked under the blows, the way he screamed and frothed at the mouth with pain. He felt himself slipping into death, and then…

…he was back, partially healed, though not well enough to get up. Kyle stood above him, glowering, eyes still wet with tears.

"You didn't think I'd let you off that easy, did you? I planned to just kill you, but after that last little comment? You're going to fucking _suffer_ , Dovahkiin. So if you want to end your pain now and not later, you're going to tell me WHERE the fuck you buried him. Now. I can touch your forehead and read your thoughts. Picture where he is. Or else," He bent down, summoning a pair of rusty pliers. "I'm going to rip your nails out one by one," Dovahkiin shook, before muttering,

"Alright," Kyle smirked.

"Good. And if you're lying? I'll be able to tell, and I will punish you further," He nodded mutely. Kyle pressed two fingers to his temple, and he pictured where he really left the Sir Marsh nearly a week ago. Kyle nodded mutely.

"You didn't lie. Good," He produced the pliers. "But I'm still going to torture you," Dovahkiin snarled in horror and rage.

" _We had a deal!"_ he snapped. Kyle's eyes smoldered once again.

"Forgive me if I'm not keen to keep promises to a serial killer. I told you, fuck morality. You took the only person I love that was still alive. I don't care about being ethical,"

Dovahkiin's screams could be heard all through the castle.

 **SPSPSPSPSP**

It was finally done. He had successfully killed the genocidal maniac who had terrorized Men and Elves alike nearly three months. He really had to hand it to Dovahkiin; in such little time, he had managed to murder so many. So much innocent blood spilled, and for what? For nothing at all. For no reason. Because fate dictated Dovahkiin could, and that he would. Kyle chuckled humorlessly. So be it then.

He rode on horseback, a covered, wooden wagon hitched to his steed, on which a steel box sat, alongside some gloves, a surgical mask, and a shovel. Today was the day.

"I'm coming for you Stan," He murmured to no one in particular.

It took nearly three days on horseback to get there, but it was well worth the journey. Finally, he came to the place he had etched into his memory nearly ninety-six hours ago. Here it was; the final resting place of his love.

Digging up the body took nearly two hours; Kyle was not accustomed to hard manual labor, and it was grueling, unforgiving work. But he finally did it.

The body was already decomposing. After all, it had been nearly eight days since Stan died. He winced at the smell, picking the dirt covered corpse up delicately and placing it in the box on the back of the wagon. He let out a breath. Even decomposing and stinking of death, and cold from dormancy, Stan was _still_ beautiful. Kissing two fingers, he placed them gently on the forehead of the man he loved, and muttered a quiet, solemn "rest in peace, Stan" before closing the box.

It was too late to have him embalmed when they returned to the Kingdom of Larnion, and Kyle smelled of death the whole way home, but at least now they could give Stan a proper burial. And no one would ever know, but he had taken the coffin intended for his death, the lavish one made of steel and lined with satin and velvet, and used it for Stan. After what he suffered, the _way_ he suffered, it was the least he deserved. Besides, Kyle could always have another one made. He didn't really mind. He'd only be using it after he was dead, after all.

And then Kyle got all his affairs in order. Having no living family that he knew of (his brother had died of the Sickness when he was still an infant and his parents had passed from health complications in their age), he named his heir to be a member of his council who was slightly younger than him (he was only twenty-nine) but incredibly capable, as forcing the new heir to be a blood family member had died ages ago. He addressed his people, the Men and Elves long united due to the killer who had terrorized them both, and thanked them for the support and loyalty they had granted him in his short rule, promising them the murderer they feared had suffered and ultimately died, and that his Captain of the Guard had been properly buried thanks to Kyle's efforts. He told them to look towards a brighter future, quietly smiling to himself when he talked about a future he knew he wouldn't be a part of. And he ordered a new coffin be made, though he knew it would be futile as he would already be dead before it was finished.

One early morning, nearly a fortnight after his confrontation with Dovahkiin, Kyle lay in bed with a heavy heart and lidded eyes. He hadn't slept at all, and he wasn't due to be up for nearly four hours. Good. It gave him time.

Kyle sat down at his desk and picked up a pen, and he began to write.

 _To whom this may concern,_

 _I have decided to end my own life as I feel I have no more services to pay this beautiful land. It was not the uniting of Zaron and Larnion into Zaron-Larnion that was my greatest achievement, nor was becoming king of elves, nor was even killing Dovahkiin, but the love I felt for my Captain of the Guard, Stanley Marsh, who I loved like a lover. I traveled the country for three nights to find his body, and I buried him in a coffin specifically made for me, because I loved him and because he suffered before he died due to my shortcomings. It is because I have lost everyone I love that I am doing this; Stanley was simply the straw that broke the camel's back, though it was a hefty straw I must say. Do not weep for me, my people, for I love you liked I loved Stan; purely and wholeheartedly. I simply wish to join him on the other side. Goodbye._

 _Regards,_

 _Kyle Brofolvski, King of Elves_

Drifting back to his bed, Kyle quietly mixed the purple powder he had bought in the market from a foreign trader four days ago into a cup of his favorite tea, and began to drink. And as he drank, he cried, not out of sadness, but of happiness that he would be seeing Stan soon.

"I'm coming, Stan," He murmured as he felt himself drift off into a peaceful sleep.

 **SPSPSPSPSP**

Death was just like falling asleep, really. Minutes after he fell asleep, Kyle had stopped breathing and passed quietly. When he woke again, he was in tall grass. He shot up, looking around. Holy shit, this was the meadow he and Stan played in as children! He froze; this meadow no longer existed, at least not in this state. A fire that broke out when Kyle was sixteen had burned the grass to cinders, and the little house in the distance shouldn't be there because it was the origin of the fire. When the grass grew back, it was never quite as soft again. Kyle knew because he often came there to hide away and think in times of crisis. But here it was, the same forest in the distance and the same soft grass the meadow had borne when he was a boy. He heard a voice that was like honey to his ears in the distance.

" _Kyle!"_ He stood quickly and spun around, to see the approaching figure of Stan Marsh rushing to meet him. Choking on his own tears, Kyle ran to him. When they eventually made contact, Kyle wrapped his arms around Stan, sobbing into the crevice of his neck. They stood like that for several minutes, Kyle and Stan, Stan and Kyle, just like the world intended, just as it always should've been. After a long while, Stan was the first to pull away, tears leaking from his bright blue eyes.

"Kyle, what the hell are you _doing_ here?! You weren't supposed to die for another fifty years, dude, God told me himself! A suicide? What were you thinking, you dumbass! You could have-"

And for once, Kyle wasn't cautious, and he wrapped his arms around Stan's tan neck and smashed their lips together. The kiss started chaste, before progressing into a deeper state. God, had Stan _always_ tasted like cinnamon and sugar?! Stan groaned into the kiss before pulling him closer, and Jesus Christ, this is what heaven _really_ feels like, isn't it?

Eventually the kiss had to end when they both pulled away for breath, and Stan gave him a goofy grin.

"Holy shit, dude," Kyle let out a laugh that sounded like the tinkling of bells, and buried his face in Stan's neck again. Voice still shaky with tears, he murmured,

"Forgive me, Stan. I just couldn't live without you. I really love you, and every one I loved was dead, and I just felt so guilty that I didn't get your tears for the potion I slipped to Dovahkiin or you could have LIVED damnit-" Stan cut him off with another rough kiss, this one a bit more brief, before grunting,

"No more talking, Kyle. I understand now," Kyle sighed.

"I didn't think you were like me, honestly," he muttered, and at that, Stan let out a bark of laughter.

"You've always been different for me I guess. You've awakened new desires in me Kyle. Well, if I want to get technical, watching you destroy Dovahkiin to avenge my memory awakened new desires in me," Kyle felt his face heat at that.

"You saw that?" he asked. Stan grinned and nodded.

"You were _badass_ dude. I've never been so proud. Christ, I had no idea you were so powerful! I've never seen you do that attack where you ran on the wall and punched him, but God, that was so fucking cool! Where'd you even learn to-" Kyle cut him off with a kiss of his own, laughing.

"No more talking, Stan," he teased. Stan growled something unintelligible, and promptly swooped in and picked him up bridal style. "Stan, put me down!" Kyle shouted, his face flushing with embarrassment. Stan smirked.

"No way, man. I'm gonna carry you all the way back to the others!" Kyle gaped.

"Others?" he said. Stan grinned as he began to carry him.

"Of course dude, everyone's here! Kenny, Butters, Scot, Jimmy, Tweek, Craig, Clyde, Token, Wendy, even Cartman!" Kyle winced.

"Wendy's here?" he muttered. Stan's smile didn't fade.

"Yeah dude, she's found someone else. This guy, Jeremy. He's really great,"

Soon, they neared the village. People came into view as they neared the crowd. When they finally arrived, Kyle immediately recognized everyone as members of his kingdom. Everyone fell silent. After a moment of quiet, someone yelled,

"All heil Kyle, King of Elves and Men, destroyer of worlds and slayer of the unjust!" The crowd responded with a hearty, synchronized, "All heil!"

And soon, Cartman emerged, with an indignant cry of,

"Ewww, the super best homos are together and they're probably going to fuck each other in the asses tonight like the assramming homos they are!" Kyle glared, shouting,

"Fuck you, fat boy!" Cartman's grin twisted into a snarl.

"Ey, don't call me fat you fucking Elf!" Kyle grinned as Stan put him down and he rushed to meet his people.

He was finally home.


End file.
